


The Pursuit of Pleasure

by i_feel_electric



Category: Big Bang (Band), GTOP - Fandom, K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Romance, Shameless Smut, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 10:53:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_feel_electric/pseuds/i_feel_electric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seunghyun is away on business, Jiyong keeps him company. For a price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Chase

 

Night settled over Seoul, the winding city streets humming with the collective heartbeats of those who sought out familiar ways to achieve an altered state. To feel something else or feel nothing at all. I stood at the window of my hotel room, looking down fifteen stories at the glow of traffic. Red and white blood cells swimming through urban veins. Seoul's pulse fluttered in time with mine, trying to lure me out into its cacophonous arms, but I turned away and sat on the bed.

 

It was too big for one person, the bed. I never understood why the agency always did that. Perhaps it was merely coincidence. More likely it was a subtle suggestion that I get laid. I huffed, rubbing the heels of my hands into the softness of my tired eyes. It wasn't a terrible idea, actually. I'd already checked over my equipment for the shoot tomorrow and anything else I'd forgotten could wait until morning. Though the thought of venturing out to a crowded, overpriced bar only to be subjected to the eager overtures of horny men made me want to crawl under the covers and watch shitty television until I fell asleep. How long had it been? My schedule was so hectic, I struggled to keep track of what day it was let alone the last time I'd had sex. They all blurred together at this point, variations on a theme. Some were models, some were strangers. A few were even friends. But none of them ever became more than a warm body with a pretty face. And I didn't allow myself to analyze why because I knew the answer would be far too depressing.

 

Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair. Maybe it would be best if I took a shower and called it a night. The flight from Berlin had been long and tomorrow would be even longer. I stood, reaching into the pockets of my jeans to empty their contents on the dresser and pulled out the business card a colleague had given me in Germany. It was for a high-end escort service here in Seoul. Originally, I assumed it had been a joke, brushing it off with a smile and a slap on the back. I didn't even remember slipping it into my pocket. In retrospect, my friend had seemed a little too excited that I was going to South Korea on business. Rolling my eyes, I dropped the card and began removing my clothes. I wasn't that desperate.

 

 

*

 

 

Half an hour later I found myself standing in front of the dresser again, naked save for a towel hanging from my hips, skin still warm from the shower. I held the card between my thumb and forefinger, flipping it around and around as I deliberated pointlessly over a decision I'd clearly already made. There was nothing shameful in the pursuit of pleasure. Picking up my cell, I dialed the number printed lavishly in loops of gold.

 

When the man on the phone asked me what I was looking for, my powers of speech abandoned me because I honestly didn't know. I cleared my throat and opened my mouth but there was nothing.

 

“Sweetheart, this isn't a quiz show. I just need something to work with.”

 

Chuckling faintly, I sunk down on the mattress and swiped my fingers over my lips in contemplation.

 

“I want someone unique. Different.”

 

“Unique is expensive.”

 

“Would I be talking to you right now if I was concerned about expense?”

 

“Fair point.”

 

I gave him my information and in turn he gave me a name.

 

Jiyong.

 

 

*

 

 

A loud knock startled me from my trance. I'd been staring out the window again, counting the lights in the apartments of the highrise across the street. There were thirty-seven. I walked to the other side of the room, pausing at the mirror to smooth a hand over my damp hair. Not like my companion for the evening was being paid to care about my appearance. Still, first impressions went a long way.

 

I opened the door, all the oxygen in the world seeming to fade from existence when I saw the perfect creature waiting for me on the other side.

 

Ruffled pink hair fell into dark eyes lined with darker kohl, making them stand out against his lightly tanned skin. His full, rose-tinged lips were curled in a knowing smirk as my gaze traveled south to take in the white collar circled round his long neck. The black sweater clinging to his broad shoulders and narrow waist. The tight, black leather that encased slender thighs and shapely calves, disappearing into high-laced boots studded with black rhinestones. Unique was not the word I would have used to describe this living work of art. He was devastating in his beauty. Ruthless. Seductive. Without even trying. I took my time reliving every detail on the return journey to meet his gaze.

 

“You must be Jiyong.”

 

“And you must be Mr. Choi.” His eyes gleamed, entertained by my thorough inspection.

 

“Please, call me Seunghyun.” I stepped aside to let him in.

 

Jiyong wandered around the hotel room and I closed the door. He eased himself into the chair by the window, crossing his long legs and watching me with the sharpness of a hawk as I approached.

 

“You have a lovely home.”

 

I grinned and he smiled, those pretty lips spreading thin over pearl-white teeth, shocking me with his sincere amusement. I reminded myself of how briefly he would be mine. And that he was really only mine because I'd bought his time and his affection. There would be nothing sweet about the sorrow of our parting come morning.

 

“Thank you, I just had it remodeled.”

 

Jiyong laughed, his booted foot brushing along the inside of my leg.

 

“Are we going out, or staying in?” Tilting his head to the side, Jiyong sucked his lower lip into his mouth and slid his foot higher little by little.

 

“Staying in.” I widened my stance, giving him more freedom to tease me.

 

“And what kind of trouble should we get into first?” The tip of his boot had reached the apex of my legs and he applied a gentle pressure to my crotch.

 

My mouth fell open, eyelids drifting shut. I liked his boldness. The confidence that dripped from his pores, sticky and thick. It was intoxicating.

 

“I want to watch you.”

 

The pressure vanished and I looked down. He was standing so close I could smell the remnants of tobacco on his breath. I tilted forward slightly, nosing along his cheek, and inhaled. Pheromones or not, the heady combination of cigarettes and his scent was intensely enjoyable.

 

“Ah, a voyeur.” Jiyong's fingers danced across my chest.

 

He turned his head, mouth hovering centimeters from mine. The temptation to kiss him consumed me, my desire an unrelenting tidal wave, but I denied myself the satisfaction. Sometimes it was more fun to withhold pleasure than to succumb to the allure of instant gratification.

 

“Will I be allowed to taste you at all tonight?” Jiyong leaned in and I pulled away before he could make contact.

 

“That depends entirely on your performance,” I murmured.

 

Smiling, his hands dropped to wrap firmly around my hips, shifting our positions until my back was facing the chair. Jiyong trailed a single finger over my right side, circling my nipple through the thin fabric of my shirt.

 

“I do love a challenge.” Jiyong smirked, using that finger to push me onto the chair cushion.

 

“So, Seunghyun...” He nudged my knees apart, depositing a foot directly between my legs as he began unlacing his boots. “What do you do?”

 

“I'm a photographer,” I hissed, Jiyong pressing against my cock with the sole of his shoe.

 

“And what do you photograph?”

 

He repeated the process with the other boot and I moaned softly when he pressed harder.

 

“Fashion.”

 

Jiyong's eyebrows vanished beneath his pink fringe.

 

“I'm impressed.”

 

“Are you now?”

 

“Yes, I am.” Jiyong balanced effortlessly, removing first one boot and then the other.

 

The questions ceased, Jiyong reaching down to remove his sweater in one smooth motion, tousling his already disheveled mop of pink hair. I sunk further into the chair, wondering how that hair would feel gripped tightly in my fists. His long fingers untucked the white shirt from his pants and slowly exposed the swell of his collarbones and the shallow dip of his sternum as he popped each button. Jiyong swept the fabric over the curve of his shoulders and the shirt slid down his arms to pool at his bare feet. My nerve endings ached, pulsing with the need to know the texture of his honeyed skin beneath my hands. To explore the contours of his flesh until the pads of my fingers had memorized every peak and valley. Every imperfection. I wanted to learn how this body differed from all the others. But not yet.

 

Jiyong lowered his zipper, pulling the leather material down and away from his hips. The dark nest of his pubic hair drew my gaze and I licked my lips, clenching my thigh until the pain cut through the heady arousal that coated my every atom. Already my erection strained uncomfortably against my jeans and we'd only just begun. He moved to tug his pants down further but I shook my head.

 

“Leave them on.”

 

“As you wish.” Jiyong smiled, staring at me with ill-concealed lust in his brown, hooded eyes. “Where do you want me?”

 

“The bed.”

 

Sauntering backwards, he slid into the mattress, propped up on his elbows and legs splayed open. I left the chair, exerting immense self-control as I bent over him with my hands planted on either side of his body. Jiyong's focus narrowed to the proximity of my mouth and I almost crumbled under the intensity of his desire to kiss me. Again, I denied myself, pressing my lips to his ear.

 

“When you touch yourself, I want you to imagine my tongue licking across the softness of your skin, taking you apart piece by piece,” I whispered, reveling in the way his breath hitched and his hips twitched.

 

I returned to the chair, observing silently the rise and fall of Jiyong's chest. His eyes were closed, plump bottom lip once more caught between his teeth. Jiyong placed a hand on his stomach and scraped blunt nails along his abdomen, fingers dipping low to gently pull his cock out. I ignored the throbbing of my pulse, the way my skin grew hot, the way my breath quickened. Gripping the armrests to anchor myself, I dedicated the whole of my attention to the half-naked boy jerking off on the bed in my hotel room.

 

Jiyong had set a tortuous pace, fist gliding over his cock in lazy strokes. He whined and let is head tip back. I watched his adams apple bob up and down in his throat, watched as his stomach muscles contracted with the effort it was taking for him to maintain the slow rhythm. Beads of sweat pooled in the hollows of his collarbone and rolled down his heaving chest. A low moan tumbled from his mouth, hips undulating to meet every pump of his fist as he stroked faster. Harder. I resisted the burn in my gut begging for mercy, begging for release. I wouldn't relent until I saw him come, screaming from the thought of my mouth searing his skin. Jiyong sucked on his lower lip to smother the whimpers but it was no use, he was unraveling with each fumbling flick of his wrist. Eventually he gave in, moaning loudly as he collapsed on the bed, spine arching in a graceful curve. Hips bucking wildly into his own hand, Jiyong gasped for air and emitted a string of curses while clutching desperately at the bedspread. I wished I knew what his pleasure felt like, coursing through his body with the force of a speeding train. He was a vision to behold. Skin slick and glistening, body writhing, face contorted in an expression of ultimate joy and the complete loss of control. A ragged sob tore through the room as Jiyong reached the height of his orgasm, every muscle tightening. Quivering. The image was so remarkably erotic I nearly came from that alone.

 

“Jesus christ.” Jiyong rolled over onto his side, groaning and laughing at the same time.

 

Carefully, I moved to the bed, laying beside him. I tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

 

“Would you like to claim your reward?”

 

“Oh yes, please.” He beamed.

 

I framed his face with both of my hands, grazing his mouth with my lips, teasing the supple flesh with the tip of my tongue. Jiyong sighed and pressed closer, arms coiling around my waist as he deepened the kiss. His thigh brushed my erection and my heart almost burst, a flash of light exploding behind my closed eyes.

 

“I believe you deserve yours as well,” Jiyong whispered against my mouth, palming my cock through my jeans.

 

My brows knitted and I buried my face in the crook his neck, biting down hard enough to draw blood when he squeezed once. The delicious pressure and Jiyong's rumbling groan sent me careening over the edge in a matter of seconds. I rocked into his hand as he continued to stroke me through the waves of my bliss. I laved my tongue over his abused skin and he gasped, rolling on top of me. Jiyong ducked down to devour my lips, rough and needy. Fingers tangling in his hair, I yanked his head back to drag my teeth along his jaw.

 

“It's a shame you'll be leaving,” Jiyong practically purred, grinding against me. “I could have so much fun with you.”

 

“The night is far from over.”

 

“But what about tomorrow night?” He grinned widely.

 

I sat up, pulling on the pink strands, and watched his pupils dilate. Jiyong was still grinning. I sucked on the steadily beating pulse at the side of his neck, making him tremble.

 

“If you survive the rest of the evening, we can discuss the possibility of tomorrow.”

 

Jiyong shook with mirth as he nuzzled affectionately at my temple.

 

“Seunghyun, I think I'm in love,” he chuckled, shoving me to the bed and tearing the shirt from my body with gleeful relish.

 

Even though it was said in jest, my heart stuttered against my ribcage. I pushed the emotion away and instead surrendered to the sensation of Jiyong's hot mouth dismantling my entire reality.

 

 


	2. The Trap

The disgustingly cheerful jingle of my phone alarm bled through the dense cloud of slumber that encompassed my brain. I hated it, which is why I never changed it. Nothing else pissed me off enough to warrant crawling out of bed.

 

“Make it stop,” Jiyong mumbled into my shoulder, groggy and pretty much incoherent.

 

I ripped the offensive lump of technology from the wall and managed to successfully kill the painful shrill of its beeping.

 

“Sorry,” I croaked, turning over to swallow him in my embrace, arms and legs clamped around his small frame.

 

Jiyong smiled, I could feel the spread of his lips against my skin. He leaned away and pressed a lingering kiss to the spot just under my chin.

 

“Good morning,” he hummed.

 

Features softened by sleep, dark eyes warmer and less sharp in the light of day, hair mussed and pushed back from his forehead. Jiyong was even more beautiful now than the night before and I marveled at how that was possible. I studied his face, wiping a smudge of faded eyeliner with my thumb. I imagined him as my lover, not the piece of meat I'd essentially ordered from a catalogue. What would it be like to wake up to his brilliance each morning? How would it feel to call him mine, and mean it? I didn't need to know Jiyong to want him, but would the knowing make it any less of a struggle to board the plane that would take me home? My hands roamed without purpose along the smooth, velvet expanse of his back. This line of thought had a dead-end that I'd come to know all too well.

 

“Tell me I don't have to go to work.”

 

“You don't have to go to work.”

 

Jiyong laughed when I grumbled and burrowed into his chest.

 

“What time is it?”

 

“Seven twenty-seven.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

Scrambling over him, I leapt from the bed and frantically tore though my suitcase, throwing on the first articles of clothing I could find. I stumbled over one of Jiyong's clunky boots on my way to the bathroom, earning myself a poorly muffled giggle. I poked my head out into the bedroom and pointed a finger at my harasser.

 

“Shut up.”

 

Jiyong covered his mouth but his eyes were still glittering with humor. My heart jumped and I grinned despite myself. The sudden urge to get my camera prickled along the skin of my hands, though I doubted a photograph would ever be able to capture the full spectrum of his beauty. Some things were meant to be experienced. Jiyong was one of them. Pivoting on my heel, I glared at myself in the mirror and went to the sink to brush my teeth. I never failed to fall for the ones I couldn't have, it was the perfect self-sabotage. Denying myself happiness because I thought I didn't deserve it. Denying myself pleasure to the point of pain. I spit into the sink, rinsing my mouth out. My eyes closed and I let my mind waltz through memories of last night, recalling flashes of detail. A hot tongue, supple thighs, whispers over bruised flesh. Jiyong was staring at me in the mirror when I lifted my head, leaning naked against the door frame, arms crossed.

 

“You're different now.”

 

His brows were knitted, like he was trying to solve a puzzle. If only he knew there was nothing to solve.

 

“Why, because I'm not manhandling you anymore?” I dropped my gaze. “That was sex. This is...me.”

 

I turned, sitting on the edge of the sink counter. His skin was peppered with scratches and little blossoms of red and purple. The bite mark on his neck had scabbed over with flecks of dried blood. I reached out, gingerly touching the wound with apologetic fingers.

 

“I survived.” Jiyong gave me a lopsided smirk and I chuckled.

 

“Barely. It looks like I beat you up.”

 

“I liked it.” He stepped towards me, insinuating himself between my legs. “Will I see you again tonight?”

 

“How much is it going to cost me?” I raised a brow and tried not to smile.

 

Jiyong pinched my arm, shoving me playfully. He ducked his head and toyed with the belt buckle at my waist. His confidence had waned, was less potent, making him seem smaller and more vulnerable. I trailed my knuckles down the length of his side.

 

“Nothing. It'll cost nothing.” Jiyong hesitated, glancing up at me through the delicate fan of his lashes. “I don't normally spend the night with my clients.”

 

“Which means-”

 

He interrupted me with a nervous sigh.

 

“It means I stayed because I wanted to.” He wasn't making eye-contact, more interested in the opalescent buttons of my dress shirt. “Technically our  _arrangement_  ended four hours ago.”

 

He stayed because he wanted to. Stayed. Because he wanted to. The words swelled and tumbled around in my thoughts like bloated bricks and I didn't know what to do. Laugh or cry. Instead, I tilted Jiyong's face towards mine, brushing a gentle kiss over his lips. His hands clutched at my shirtsleeves as he arched closer, palms sliding over my shoulders to cup the sides of my neck. Jiyong made a pleased noise in the back of his throat and pressed deeper, tongue delving forward into my mouth. The heat of his hardening cock branded my stomach through the starched fabric. I needed to leave but I couldn't find the motivation to stop. He had stayed. How could I go?

 

“You're gonna make me late.”

 

“Are you complaining?”

 

“No.” I grinned, stealing another kiss, sloppy and sweet.

 

Spinning Jiyong around, I locked one arm across his chest and held him against me. He gasped, surprised. My other hand sought out the lightly muscled planes of his stomach. In the smallest increments I dragged that hand down over silken skin, easing my fingers around the base of his cock. Jiyong stiffened and then melted into my arms, pliant and warm.

 

“But if I'm gonna be late,” I murmured in his ear, sucking the lobe into my mouth and piercing the soft flesh with my teeth at the same time as I stroked him. “I might as well enjoy myself first.”

 

Jiyong's keening moan sent a tingle rippling from my scalp all the way to my toes. I stroked him again, taking up a steady rhythm as he threw his head back, neck draped over my shoulder. His undoing would not be swift. It would be gradual, languorous. Agonizing. His hands came up to claw at my forearm, his hips struggling to keep time with each pump of my fist, always wanting to go faster. Messy and wet, I licked along his throat, his jaw. I left behind a trail of tiny red welts, nipping harshly at his tender skin. He tasted like stale sweat and sex. I wanted to consume him, my appetite insatiable. Jiyong panted and trembled and whined, each breath he took more wrecked than the last. I held him tighter, pinning him against me as he moaned my name, urging me to put an end his suffering. But he wasn't in control anymore. My movements slowed and I uncurled my fist, fingers lightly caressing his shaft, thumb swiping mercilessly over the swollen head. Jiyong bucked, squirming in my arms and whimpering like a child deprived of its toy. He was beyond language now, could only mumble desperate sounds of need. Of more. Always more. I touched the sensitive vein that ran along the underside of his dick and he cried loudly, shaking. When Jiyong blindly attempted to finish the job himself, I released my hold only to trap his wandering limbs beneath mine, awkwardly pressing them to his chest with my arm.

 

“That's not allowed,” I chastised, gently grazing Jiyong's cock with the edges of my fingernails.

 

His body hadn't stopped vibrating, pulsating like a plucked string pulled taut. Taking pity on his tortured nerves, I resumed stroking him, mouthing at his neck as I delivered him to an explosive climax. Jiyong came hard, thrusting helplessly into my hand as he decorated the tiles of the bathroom floor with thick spurts of white. I smiled, releasing his softening cock to rub circles over his stomach, muscles still spasming in the wake of his orgasm. Jiyong inhaled large mouthfuls of air and leaned into me, heavy and boneless. His legs gave out and I cradled his limp form, huffing a quiet laugh when he flopped around to cling to my shoulders.

 

“Are you all right?” I massaged the hairs at his nape until his breathing calmed.

 

“To be honest I'm at a loss for words.”

 

“I'll take that as a compliment.”

 

“You absolutely should,” Jiyong chuckled lazily.

 

We stood there for a time, not saying anything. But life beckoned and I was late.

 

“I need to go.”

 

“I know.” He didn't move though and neither did I. “What are you planning to do with this?”

 

My erection twitched as if happy that it had finally been acknowledged. Jiyong shifted, putting pressure on my crotch and I hissed, sending a silent prayer to the ceiling with my eyes.

 

“Don't worry about me. Can you stand?”

 

Jiyong nodded and I forced myself to let go, arms falling away from his body. It shouldn't have been so difficult. I couldn't afford to become attached but I was hopelessly wrapped around his finger. I wondered if he knew how easily he could make me dance. A marionette in talented hands. The danger of being the lapdog of lust was that I never failed to lose a small part of myself in the process. Like a trail of breadcrumbs laid down by my heart that only I could see. My heart was a fool, jumping into bed with others too eagerly. Eventually it was bound to make its own grave.

 

Leaning over the sink, Jiyong splashed water onto his flushed face and I used one of the hotel towels to clean off the floor. I sensed his eyes on me as I shuffled out of the bathroom to collect my camera bags. When I turned around he was leaning against the door frame again, hips cocked, accentuating the elegant curve of his figure.

 

“Give me your phone.” Jiyong extended an upturned palm.

 

I pulled it from my pocket, entering the password before depositing it in his hand. He tapped away at the screen, bottom lip nestled between his teeth in what I began to realize was a recurring phenomenon. An infuriatingly sexy phenomenon. I stared at the ugly, patterned carpet to spare myself the torment of watching. Jiyong returned the cellphone when he was done, a ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth.

 

“I don't know how long I'll be,” I said, shouldering my bags. “But I'll call you when the shoot's finished.”

 

“Promise?”

 

Jiyong straightened my collar. I bent forward to mold my lips to his cheek. He swayed into the kiss and I almost lost my balance.

 

“I promise.”

 

Ruffling his hair, I made to leave but faltered in my steps before I reached the door. I paused, looking back.

 

“And stay as long as you like.”

 

Jiyong's eyes brightened, the fondness of his gaze unexpectedly authentic. He was constantly doing that, catching me off guard. What had we really started in our search for release? I didn't know what to make of our mess. Because it was definitely a mess and neither of us were going to walk away from this intact. I was used to that, at least.

 

I cleared my throat, suddenly uncomfortable in my own skin. Sparing him a final glance, I dipped my head and left the room.

 

 

*

 

 

On the cab ride to the studio I observed the steel behemoths of Seoul, stretching their long necks toward an overcast sky pregnant with rain. Building after building saturated my vision like a muted, gray veil though all I could see was pink. Why? Infatuation was a rigged game and I'd gambled away all my chips years ago, I wasn't supposed to feel like this. Nothing good ever came out of loving anyone anyway. But Jiyong made the sweetness lurking inside of me rise to the surface with the smallest gestures. I  _wanted_  to be sweet with him. And that was the most cruel thing I could think of doing because, unlike him, I didn't have the freedom to stay.

 

I would meet Jiyong again that evening and I would fuck him until his eyes rolled back in his head and I wouldn't ruin him with my absurd fantasies and my shriveled, fool of a heart. After which I would go to the airport and board my goddamn plane and never think of him again.

 

If lying to myself was a sport, I would be drowning in gold medals.

 

Smashing my head against the window, I let the city blur, mottled and foreign. For once, work had become a longed for distraction and I welcomed it with open arms.


	3. The Spoils

 

“You were supposed to be here forty-five minutes ago,” my assistant hissed at me.

 

“Yeah, if I was here forty-five minutes ago, I'd be sitting in that chair with my thumb up my ass.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Where are the models?”

 

“We don't know.”

 

“Just  _find_  them. And call me when you do, I'm going outside.”

 

She nodded, frantically poking at her cellphone as she wandered away. And here I thought I was the one being unprofessional. I fished the crumpled pack of cigarettes from the breast-pocket of my coat and slipped through the back door of the converted warehouse. My footsteps echoed in the cavernous stairwell as I climbed all the way to the top and escaped out onto the roof. I didn't indulge the habit as much as I used to, but sometimes I needed to feel the burn in my lungs more than I needed to feel anything else. The city pressed in around me like a cage, the constant hum more frenetic now than at night. It was unsettling. I inhaled, blowing a cloud of smoke over the skyline until the buildings were swallowed up by the haze. When the cloud dissipated I did it again, spewing blueish tendrils from my mouth, setting Seoul on fire.

 

Vainly, I pretended that not thinking about Jiyong was something I was capable of. But the smoke was too thin even for that. His smile bloomed in a constant slow-motion loop in my head, grating against the shoddily built walls I'd erected in an attempt to distance myself. The damage he'd inflicted was still too new, too fresh. I would need time and oceans of land between us before I could breathe again.

 

Flicking the spent cigarette into the alley, I wondered if Jiyong would keep the chunk he'd taken out of my heart.

 

 

*

 

 

After the models had arrived, the minutes wilted and wore away too quickly. Nearly the entire crew had gone home and I loitered in the middle of the now barren studio with my phone in my hand. The beginning of an end. I scrolled through my contacts in search of the number Jiyong had typed in earlier but I couldn't find it. Frowning, I checked again, reading every name when it jumped out at me.  _The One That Got Away_. My laughter reverberated in the empty space.

 

“Jackass,” I muttered aloud, tapping the call button.

 

He picked up after the fourth ring.

 

“Hello gorgeous.” Jiyong's voice shot through me, the lilting tone simmering in my blood.

 

“I'm heading back to drop off my equipment and change. Do you want to meet me or was there something else you wanted to see other than the ceiling of the hotel room?”

 

“You're hilarious.”

 

“I have my moments.”

 

“I want to take you somewhere. I'll text you the address.”

 

“Does this “somewhere” involve dressing up?”

 

“Seunghyun, you could walk through Apgujeong wearing a trash bag and no one would care.”

 

“So, no, then.”

 

“Just be there at nine.”

 

“Got it.”

 

I hadn't noticed that I'd been grinning during our entire exchange. The twinging soreness in my cheeks when I ended the call startled me, but was not unwelcome. How many times would he throw me off balance before I finally toppled over? Heaving a sigh, I shrugged my coat on and grabbed my bags.

 

 

*

 

 

I observed myself in the mirror, trying and failing not to see my every flaw as if under a microscope. Since when did I care so much about the opinion of one person? It wouldn't make a difference. Caring. This wasn't a fairytale fated to end happily, all loose ends tied up in a neat little fucking bow. Life was anything but neat and mine was no exception. I rejected the attachment I had to Jiyong, rejected the creeping feeling of that attachment turning into something more because it wouldn't do me any favors. Not tonight.

 

The address Jiyong had given me was in Gangnam, which meant upscale. I didn't know if we'd be changing locations afterward, so I'd settled on simple but flexible. Black collarless blazer, fitted gray v-neck, and black jeans that were probably too tight but it would be worth it by the end of our little adventure. I slid my feet into my favorite pair of Oxfords and checked myself in the mirror again, praying that the nervous tremor in my pulse would disappear before I got there. He had enough ammunition as it was.

 

 

*

 

 

When I entered the intimate, dimly lit bar Jiyong was already there, poised and perfect on a leather sofa that sat low to the ground. My throat constricted as my eyes traveled from the cotton candy pink hair framing his face to the exposed skin of his ankles. He was a prince. Regal and elegant and cruel in the severity of his loveliness. So very cruel. Jiyong really did take my breath away each time that I looked at him. And sometimes I found myself wanting to suffocate rather than look anywhere else. He stood to greet me, hand sliding under my blazer to rest heavily on my hip, soft mouth planted on the line of my jaw.

 

“Hello gorgeous,” Jiyong repeated the endearment from our conversation over the phone.

 

“I like your hair this way,” I murmured, combing my fingers through the cascading, vibrant strands that he'd parted down the middle.

 

He smiled up at me, a faint blush dusting his cheekbones. That fluttering, giddy thump of vertigo invaded my stomach and I forced a shallow breath inward. Jiyong's eyes bore into mine as if searching for something.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“What are you drinking?”

 

“Whiskey ginger.”

 

“How classy.” I smirked and he pinched my waist.

 

I moved to pull my wallet out but he grasped my arm, shaking his head.

 

“Let me.”

 

“If you insist.”

 

“I do.” Jiyong smiled again. “Pick your poison.”

 

“An Old Fashioned, if you please.”

 

He rolled his eyes, half-heartedly shoving me away.

 

“I had a feeling you'd say that.”

 

Jiyong sidled up to the bar between the row of plush, leather bar stools.

 

“What?” I laughed but he he dismissed me with a wave of his long, silver-ringed fingers.

 

How much trouble was I in if he could predict my drink of choice after only knowing me for less than twenty-four hours? I lowered myself down onto the couch and watched as he waited. The crinkled, royal blue fabric of Jiyong's jacket hung loosely from his bony shoulders, but it didn't hide the alluring curve of his slight frame as he placed all of his weight on one foot. Yellow light from the illuminated marble bar-top cast strange, ghostly shadows over his features, enhancing his otherworldly quality. Silver adorned more than just his fingers, dripping from his ears and jangling subtly at his wrists when he fidgeted. A nymph sent from another plane of existence to tease and torment.

 

Hips swaying, Jiyong returned to sit beside me. I claimed the tumbler of amber liquid, our hands sliding against one another, the touch intentional and prolonged beyond what would be considered normal. Jiyong's face flushed, the cocky confidence of his call-boy persona all but gone. I couldn't decide which was worse. He raised his drink and we clinked glasses, each taking small sips.

 

“How often do you bring your clients out for cocktails?”

 

“Never.” Jiyong gave me a sly look. “When I'm working, that's usually all it is. Work. Besides, I would never bring them here. This is mine.”

 

“Until now.”

 

“Yes, until now.” He nibbled on his lip, gazing at me with that frustratingly fond expression. “I seem to be breaking all my rules with you.”

 

“You have rules?”

 

Jiyong nudged me with his knee and rolled his eyes.

 

“In my profession, not having rules can be risky.”

 

“Speaking of your profession...”

 

“Here we go,” he sighed, but his lips were curled in a smile.

 

“Why? Why work as an escort?”

 

“Because the money is incredible. And I'm good at it.”

 

“That's an understatement.” I snorted.

 

He almost spit his drink all over both of us, choking on his laughter.

 

“Seunghyun.”

 

“Well.”

 

“It's not always about sex. It's about putting on a show, creating an illusion.”

 

“Is that what it was with me?”

 

“At first.”

 

“What changed?”

 

“You crawled under my skin.”

 

I averted my gaze, the intensity of Jiyong's brown eyes too much for me. The alcohol buzzed through my system but I knew that no amount of liquid fire would be enough to kill the way I  _ached_. For him. For his smiles and his affection. For the heat of his body.

 

“Why are you doing this?”

 

“Because I like you.”

 

“You shouldn't.”

 

“Maybe that's the reason.” Jiyong crossed his legs, draping an arm over the back of the couch to brush his fingers against my neck. “Maybe I'm hoping I can convince you not to leave.”

 

Eyelids drooping to a close, I melted under the gentle caresses.

 

“I thought you were “The One That Got Away”.”

 

He chuckled and I glanced over in time to catch the tip of his pink tongue sliding along his lips.

 

“You can fix that if you want, I was trying to be a smart ass.”

 

“You  _are_  a smart ass.”

 

Jiyong's shoulders lifted in an exaggerated shrug.

 

“Beggars can't be choosers,” he said, drowning his smirk in the last of his whiskey.

 

 

*

 

 

We piled into a cab bound for Hongdae. Jiyong didn't hesitate to affix himself to my side, hand gliding over mine, linking our fingers together. And I let him. Another giddy thump of vertigo disrupted the calm I was trying so hard to maintain. Jiyong's thumb rubbed at the skin stretched thinly over my knuckles and I conceded defeat. I angled my head down, mouth hovering over the shell of his ear.

 

“I've been meaning to ask,” I spoke quietly so only he could hear. “Why didn't you accept my payment?”

 

Jiyong's body shook in muted amusement and he turned to whisper his response.

 

“Because I don't want your money, Seunghyun. I want you.” His lips grazed the short hairs at my temple, kissing the tiny scar just beneath my eyebrow.

 

Silence reigned for the rest of our journey. It provided me with the opportunity to adjust to the rolling waves of panic rippling out from my center. Whether Jiyong sensed this or not, the solid weight of his hand tightening around mine became the mooring to which I recklessly clung.

 

 

*

 

 

Cab paid for, we lingered on the sidewalk, the bodies of other pleasure seekers trickling past us in twos and threes. Jiyong dug inside the pocket of his trousers for a cigarette, holding it delicately between his fingers.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“You'll see,” he mumbled around the filter as he nestled it in his teeth.

 

With a flick of his lighter, he inhaled deeply. But Jiyong never got the chance to exhale because I'd gripped his chin and sealed my mouth to his, stealing the smoke from his lungs. I stepped back, expelling the ashy cloud through pursed lips. He peered at me, eyes glazed, and I returned the slack-jawed expression with a smile. I wasn't certain what had possessed me to do that. Or why I leaned down to kiss him again, heedless of onlookers. Jiyong emitted a low hum of contentment, cigarette entirely forgotten as his other hand curled around my arm. On the surface I knew I gave nothing, but inside I was falling apart on a molecular level. This was so much more difficult than I had imagined it being.

 

Slowly, Jiyong broke away, lifting what remained of his cigarette to take a drag without missing a beat. He didn't utter a single word, but he didn't have to. He knew I'd felt the battering ram of his heart under my palm when it had pressed against his chest. Knew I could see that the warmth in his stare had ripened into something thick and molten. Did he see a change in me as well? If my decomposition hadn't manifested itself yet, I had no doubts that it would before the night ended. Jiyong tossed the cigarette butt onto the cement, snuffing the ember out with the toe of his shoe.

 

“I didn't know you smoked.”

 

“There are a lifetime of things you don't know about me.”

 

Those molten eyes honed in on me, still searching. Still trying to figure out where the pieces went.

 

“Actually, you give away more than you realize.”

 

If that was true, my decomposition had begun earlier than I thought. A lock of hair swung down from behind his ear, catching on the web of his eyelashes. I reached out to brush it back into place but he snatched me by the wrist and did it himself.

 

“See?” Jiyong grinned like he'd won the biggest prize. “I wonder how sweet you really are once all your defenses have been dropped.”

 

“Don't hold your breath.”

 

He just laughed, tugging me across the street into the shadows of a narrow alley. Tucked away at the end of the dank passage was a large, unmarked metal door. Jiyong pushed it open, leading me up a flight of stairs and into a moderately crowded bar. It seemed Seoul was full of secrets.

 

 

*

 

 

“I'm curious now, how you think my line of work differs from yours.” Jiyong delved into my personal space, fingers resting on my thigh. “You also sell yourself, your talent, to make a profit.”

 

I downed a shot of soju, pouring myself another before answering.

 

“I wasn't passing judgment. That would make me a hypocrite.”

 

We were sitting at the bar, his legs tangled with mine. It was a challenge to focus on the things coming out of his mouth. Jiyong was everywhere. His scent filled my nostrils, the cloying fragrance of everything that he was gathering at the back of my throat, dense and overwhelming. His touch drifting over my thigh made the giddy thumping increase in speed, made my knees spread in invitation for more. And the alcohol hadn't eradicated the addictive flavor of his tongue from my tastebuds. Jiyong could tear me down without lifting a finger and he didn't even know.

 

“But I can tell that it bothers you.”

 

“Your job description isn't what bothers me.” Indulging myself, I covered his hand with my own. “And don't ask because I won't tell you.”

 

“Okay, I won't ask.”

 

“Does it make you happy? I mean,  _are_  you happy?”

 

Jiyong looked away, the minute gesture of discomfort speaking for itself.

 

“I'm not depressed.”

 

“That doesn't answer my question.” I stroked the underside of his wrist, sliding my fingers further along his forearm. “Are you happy?”

 

“No,” he whispered, offering me a smile laced with the most bitter melancholy.

 

It was this candid admittance that hammered a crack in the walls. To think that it had meant I would be safe was a ridiculous notion. I understood that now as I watched Jiyong actively suppress his sadness, locking it away behind his eyes before it consumed him. He gulped down the clear liquid in his shot glass, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The panic swelled and squeezed my heart in its unforgiving fist, dislodging my firmly held resolve. Any fight I had left in me was exiled via the rush of air spilling from my lungs.

 

“I almost forgot,” Jiyong changed the subject while refilling his glass. “How was the photo shoot?”

 

“The models were two hours late.”

 

He barked a short laugh, downing the soju and grimacing faintly.

 

“So I didn't make you look bad after all,” Jiyong teased, bottom lip slipping between his teeth.

 

“You didn't make me do anything I didn't already want to do.” My fingers returned to the patch of satin skin at his wrist, rubbing continuously at his rising pulse.

 

“We could have accomplished so much more,” he sighed theatrically and I shook my head, grinning.

 

“If not for the shoot, we'd still be in the hotel room right now.”

 

“Is that so?” Jiyong purred, his adorably smirking lips mere inches away.

 

Maybe he did know. Maybe he was perfectly aware of the shackles he had closed around my wrists and my ankles the moment he'd appeared at my door. Only they seemed to shrink the longer I stayed with him, chafing my skin until it broke. Foolish heart, indeed.

 

We finished the bottle of soju, the alcohol finally fogging my brain enough to know that I should probably quit or suffer the consequences. Jiyong was loose, limbs slowly invading until he was practically sitting in my lap. He would continuously draw his bottom lip into his mouth and it fueled the fire racing in my blood.

 

“Stop that.”

 

“Stop what?”

 

I allowed the full extent of my arousal to bubble to the surface, pinning him with hungry eyes.

 

“Every time you bite your lip, I'm reminded of how pretty your mouth looks wrapped around my cock.” I grazed the inside of his thigh with the pads of my fingers. “And it's really fucking distracting.”

 

Jiyong laved his tongue over the pink flesh and did it again, centimeters from my face. The reddened skin glistened with his saliva and I moved my fingers higher to brush against the erection that had begun to grow between his legs. Jiyong gasped and breathed out, the hot air fanning across my cheek.

 

 

*

 

 

Before the door could even click shut behind us I had slammed Jiyong into the wall, hands clawing at his jacket and his shirt as I kissed him, ravenous and without finesse. It was like I couldn't kiss him hard enough. Like I couldn't fit enough of him in my hands as they raked over his chest and his stomach and tattooed bruises onto his hips. He yanked the blazer from my shoulders, ripping it from my arms and throwing it to the floor. My shirt followed and he replaced the fabric with his lips, painting my skin with streaks of red from the sharp slide of his teeth. I hissed when Jiyong clamped down on my nipple, the flare of pain deliciously pleasant. Gripping a fistful of his cotton candy hair, I pulled him off of me, licking the salt and the musk from his flesh. The slick trail of my tongue wound from his collarbone and over his adams apple to end at that sensitive hollow behind his ear.

 

“I want you on your knees.” I murmured.

 

Jiyong obeyed, sinking down to kneel in front of me, deliberately taking his time as he worked my jeans open and peeled them from my legs. The knowledge that I wasn't wearing any underwear seemed to amuse him because he smirked and pressed his face against the crease where hip and thigh met. He mouthed his way along the thatch of my pubic hair, skimming the base of my cock with tiny swipes of his tongue. I groaned as he continued up the length of my shaft, smearing the precome at the tip with his swollen lips before plunging forward to swallow me whole. My entire body throbbed. Jiyong held me still in his hands, looking up into my eyes while he broke me down into small pieces.

 

Every time I approached the edge, muscles clenching and breathing ragged, he would stop and withdraw only to find new ways to make me beg for mercy. By swirling his tongue over the head in slow strokes or licking at my slit until I cried out, trembling and barely capable of holding myself up. I leaned over him, palms planted on the wall, mouth hanging open and eyes squeezed shut. Jiyong took me in one of his hands, pumping unevenly while he lightly teased the underside of my cock with his teeth. My orgasm tore through me, surprising me with its suddenness and its intensity. I moaned so loud I was sure everyone on the fifteenth floor could hear me. Jiyong's lips had closed around the head as he sucked me dry and I surrendered to the tremors.

 

Standing up, still inside the frame of my arms, he kissed my forehead and brushed the sweat-dampened hair from my face. I leaned close, holding Jiyong's gaze as I slid my mouth against his. A wave of possessive need rolled through my chest when I tasted myself on his tongue. I pushed away from the wall and Jiyong came with me, whining as he wove his fingers through my hair and crushed me closer.

 

“I'm not going anywhere,” I laughed, kissing him again.

 

“But I wasn't done yet.” Jiyong licked at my lips and sighed.

 

I toed my shoes off and stepped out of my rumpled jeans, grabbing him by the ass and lifting him into my arms. He wrapped his legs around my waist, giggling into my mouth as I walked to the bed. Gently, I set him down, my hands traveling along his body to pull his pants and his briefs from his hips. Jiyong stared at me from where he lay on the mattress, hair splayed out around his head like a neon halo. The itch to photograph him claimed me once more, but I resisted. Instead I moved to the dresser, retrieving the lube from where I'd left it the night before and taking a condom from my suitcase.

 

“I won't go easy on you.”

 

“Good, I don't want you to.” He shifted further up the bed, erection flushed and straining.

 

“Spread your legs,” I instructed, joining him.

 

Jiyong bent his knees, heels digging into the sheets. I coated my fingers with the slick substance, drawing one of his legs against me where I sat beside him. Without warning, I inserted a single digit, and then two. His hips lifted off of the bed, a choked gasp issuing from his lips. The way his body moved was mesmerizing, muscle and bone working together to create continuous fluid motion. I crooked a finger inside of him, pushing against that smooth little gland that would make him sing. Jiyong practically crooned and my cock twitch against my thigh. I worked him open with measured thrusts, but didn't want to prepare him fully. I wanted him to feel me. I wanted him to burn.

 

Removing my hand, I used the excess lubrication to stroke myself to full hardness. Jiyong lifted himself up to kiss me, but I threw him back onto the mattress, holding him down by putting pressure on his sternum. His eyes widened, pupils dilating, lips curling in a tantalizing smirk. The obvious enjoyment on his face was enough and I tore the foil of the condom wrapper, slipping it over my cock.

 

“Turn over.”

 

When Jiyong complied, I roughly hauled him up by the hips so that he was kneeling with his ass in the air. Positioning myself behind him, I caressed my fingers over the ridges of his spine and then thrust forward, sheathing myself completely. We both groaned and I could see Jiyong fiercely biting his lower lip, cheek smashed into the pillow under his head. He was so tight it took me a few minutes to adjust, my chest heaving as I struggled to breathe. I pulled out, almost to the tip, and snapped my hips forward again. Jiyong whimpered but I wanted more.

 

My fingernails sunk into his skin and I bent down, nipping at the nape of his neck as I pounded into him with punishing force, one agonizing thrust at a time. He wailed, arching into each push with thighs quivering. It was hell, but I kept my pace, the noises coaxed from Jiyong's mouth too seductive in their brokenness. I saw his hands snake beneath his body and I caught him by the wrists, locking his arms behind his back. Trapping them with one hand, clutching his hip with the other, I buried myself inside of him.

 

“Only I'm allowed to touch you,” I growled against his shoulder. “If I let go, will you behave?”

 

Jiyong nodded and I released him.

 

I couldn't hold back anymore, the accumulation of arousal was too much and it fought against the confines of my skin. Pulling out, I flipped Jiyong over and hooked his legs around me, realigning myself at his entrance. He'd torn the flesh of his lip, dark red blooming in a small pool. I sucked it into my mouth and plunged inside of him, the taste of copper and Jiyong's tongue leaving me lightheaded. He scraped long welts across my back and along my sides, emitting mindless, gasping groans as I rammed against his prostate over and over. The mounting tension in both of us had reached a boiling point. Jiyong contracted around me, losing all sense of rhythm as his orgasm hit, panting and convulsing like some untamed beast. I hid in the crook of his neck, still desperately striving towards my own climax. He lifted my head, cupping my cheeks to make me look at him. At the blissed out expression on his face and the ever-present fondness in his eyes.

 

“Come on, baby,” he whispered, kissing me softly while rocking his hips. “Fall for me.”

 

And I did. In so many ways.

 

Jiyong smoothed his hands over my neck and my shoulders as I tensed and tumbled from the edge with a strangled moan. Arms giving out, I collapsed on top of him. He stroked my hair and I tried to remember what gravity was because I couldn't sense anything other than the weightlessness of my body. And Jiyong's fingers on my scalp.

 

I closed my eyes and the world faded into nothing.

 

 

 

*

 

 

Sleep was an odd thing. You could be unconscious for hours and yet, upon waking, feel as though you'd only been under for a scant few seconds. Or the opposite. As I blinked back to reality I found that I was lying on my side, blanket tucked about my waist. Jiyong was there next to me, sheet hardly covering his bare form, head resting on an outstretched arm, the curve of his waist accentuated by the position of his hips. He reminded me of the painting by Ingres, “Une Odalisque”. Which was only fitting, considering the subject of that painting was a female concubine.

 

“Hello gorgeous,” Jiyong mumbled, smiling, and reached over to drag a finger down the bridge of my nose.

 

“How long was I asleep?”

 

“An hour at the most.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“No need, I was enjoying myself.” He took that finger and traced it over the shape of my lips.

 

“Don't move an inch.” I carefully slipped out of the bed, crouching to rummage through my bags.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I'm going to photograph you.” I glanced over, narrowing my eyes. “Seriously, don't move.”

 

I heard him chuckle but he was otherwise silent. I found my old, beat up Yashica LM and unearthed its clunky metal body from the depths of my suitcase. It was a twin-lens reflex camera and I'd had it since I was a kid. The poor thing had seen better days but it still wiped the floor with any digital camera I'd ever used. I opened the backing to load in the 120mm film, winding it to the first photo. I shuffled to the edge of the bed and set the camera on its surface, gazing down into the viewfinder while I adjusted the f-stop and the shutter speed as the light meter indicated.

 

“Have you ever left Korea?” I asked, pressing the shutter release.

 

“No.”

 

“Do you want to?”

 

I crossed the room, sitting on the ugly carpet for a different angle. Fiddling with the knobs, I watched Jiyong backwards and upside down in the glass.

 

“Yes.”

 

I took a deep breath.

 

“Then come with me.”

 

I pressed the shutter release again, capturing the stunned look on his pretty face. Only then did I lift my eyes. Jiyong was frozen in place and we stared at one another, quiet. The silence didn't frighten me though. It was the fear of change in his eyes. I put the camera down and crawled back on the bed. He sat up and I held his head between my hands.

 

“Come with me,” I repeated, brushing my lips over his mouth.

 

Jiyong straddled my lap, folding me into his embrace as he deepened the kiss. I rubbed circles into his spine and listened to the thrumming of my blood in my ears, to the wild beat of my heart lodged in my throat. He pulled away to squeeze me tighter, chin propped on my shoulder, the grip of his fingers verging on painful.

 

“Okay,” Jiyong whispered.

 

 

 

I didn't really trust myself to speak. So I hugged him as hard as I could in an attempt to transfer the unexpected swarm of happiness that had filled my stomach beyond capacity.

 

 

*

 

 

 

It wasn't love, not yet. But I refused to be another reason for that sadness hiding behind Jiyong's eyes to shine through. I desperately wanted to be the reason it never surfaced again. And that was enough to know that I couldn't walk away. That I couldn't leave. Not without him.

 

 


End file.
